Where Loyalties Lie
by Kae Ti
Summary: This *may* become an R later, but it won't get any higher than that. YAOI. I'm not telling you which pairings yet. Wait and see. WARNING: corruption and evil abound!
1. Revelations

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Where Loyalties Lie

'Ni wa, minna-san! I embrace the realms of Gundam fiction ^_^ Ooookay, this is my first serious Gundam fic (I have written others but never bothered to complete them; meet the story of my life). XD Right, enough waffle.

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Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and all its characters are patent copyright of some rich and lucky bastard who isn't me.

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Chapter: 1/15

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Rating: PG-13

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Warning: Yaoi (male/male relationships), a-muchness of rather graphic cursing, OOC, AU.

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One: Revelations

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"I have come to turn a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law - a man's enemies will be the members of his own household." -- Matthew 10, 35-36

"You'll watch your tongue about it," rasped Heero harshly, glaring at Treize with venomous defiance. His fists, clenched tight at his sides, trembled. "If a single word about this leaves your lips –"

"Relax, my friend," Treize interrupted him smoothly. "Your secret is safe with me." He leaned casually against the alley wall and flicked a cigar from his pocket, offering another to Heero, who declined with a brisk shake of the head.

"I don't."

"Suit yourself." Striking a match against the red brick behind him, Treize smirked at Heero as he touched the flame to the end of his cigar. He puffed it delicately, the discarded match falling to spit once and die out on the damp ground. His eyes never once left his companion's, nor did he make any indication that he wished to speak. A tense silence built slowly around them, as permeable as the thick smoke that Treize regularly exhaled.

"You said you hated him." Heero's blunt and direct statement shattered the atmosphere, and Treize's smirk followed it rapidly. Seeming to lose interest in the expensive cigar, he dropped it to the ground and crushed it with his boot.

"I do. Oh," and he laughed bitterly, "believe me I do. Three little words, Yuy: head of security." Heero waited unflinchingly for Treize to continue and, eventually, the burly man obliged with a deep-etched scowl.

"I've been in his service for more than twenty years, since I was a runner in the kitchens. Working my way up the heirarchy of his snobbish household, I can vouch that nobody – _nobody!_ – has been more loyal and faithful to that ungrateful bastard than me. He gave me his undying word that I'd take my rightful place as head of security when his current officer retired, but when that day came to pass did I assume the position that had been sworn to me? No! The egotistical swaggart tells me he's changed his mind. Trowa Barton, he tells me, will now fill the post. Barton!" Treize spat contemptously on the floor. "What does he know of security? I could run rings around him in a Leo! All his expertise lies in the great art of asskiss - I will not endure the humiliation of taking orders from him." His mouth set in a hard, grim line. "I will _not_."

Heero shrugged. "I have no quarrel with Trowa. Your pride will be your downfall, Treize."

The other man barely seemed to hear him. "There was a time," he growled, "when a position went to the man who was best able to carry out the duties required; he who had the necessary skills. Now it's nothing but a game of fucking favourites!"

Unperturbed, Heero merely raised an eyebrow. "So quit," he suggested.

Treize shot him a sharp look. "You don't know what you're talking about. There's more at stake here than that. I have my honour and I have sworn to honour my employer, that revolting faggot -" Heero winced. "- I have pledged him my allegiance, and that he has broken his vow to me is of no significance. I keep my promises, Yuy; do not presume to tell me I should stoop to his level of betrayal."

"You owe that son of a bitch nothing but hate," Heero snapped. "Don't let a warped sense of honour disrupt that. I don't."

Treize pushed away from the wall suddenly, a light of purposeful intent glimmering in his blue eyes. "Let's do it, Yuy. Now, tonight; let's go to Father Maxwell and tell him how his little prodigy is taking it up the ass most likely this very moment from the most well-known homo for miles around. No more 'one day's, Yuy, we're going to do it now. That should gatecrash their little party," he ended maliciously.

Heero hesitated only briefly. Years of bitterness and loathing rapidly overpowered his better judgement, and he nodded. "Let's go."

Turning to lead the way to Maxwell Church, Treize allowed himself a wide smirk that Heero could not see.

The two men made their way swiftly and silently through the darkened city streets. No drunkards wandered abroad at this time of night. Treize's eyes scanned smoothly from side to side, Heero's flicking gaze was more rat-like and furtive. Neither method was necessary, they reached the church without incident.

Treize stood aside. "This is your expedition, Yuy. I'll let you have the honours," he offered generously.

"Hn." Seizing the great brass knocker, Heero crashed it against the oaken door with reckless abandon. As the echoes of the impact faded away, rapid footsteps could be heard approaching from inside.

"Who's there? What is the meaning of this racket at these hours, don't you know what time it is? Are you hurt?"

"Father," Heero replied, his voice coldly arrogant, "there is a greater racket going on elsewhere, I assure you."

Treize joined in lustily. "What kind of coward are you who dithers behind doorways while your beloved orphan-child has his innocence stolen away by sodomites? For the Lord's sake, man, take action!"

Stunned silence was their only reply for several seconds. Then, "What are you – devils?"

"Don't be such a foolish old man. It's me, Heero Yuy of L1."

"Yuy!" That announcement had certainly animated the befuddled priest. "How many times must I tell you before it is plain? Duo does not love you! Whatever trickery you are trying to pull here tonight, he will not love you for it. He will _never_ love you. Now go away, and leave us in peace!"

"Father –"

"I said go!"

"This is _not_ a trick!"

Father Maxwell's laugh was a scornful one. "You wouldn't know honesty if it bit you on the ear."

Treize beat a solid fist against the door, and it shook. "Are you a man of God or not?" he roared, blazing with anger. "Would you let your boy be plundered by perverted devil-men before you heard a sentence from those who come only to help you? Go to his room if you'll not believe us, and see if you'll believe your own two eyes!"

"You sick-minded –"

"They fuck, Maxwell!" Treize's powerful voice easily drowned out the Father's protests. "That queer bastard Winner fucks him hard every night, and he _likes_ it!"

Father Maxwell's anger was spent, and there was an audible thud as he dropped to his knees. "Lord have mercy," he whispered. "Tell me it's lies, Heero, for pity's sake."

"Look in his bed, Father," was Heero's sombre reply. "If he's there, then we'll apologise and be gone, and never trouble you again. But mark my words: I doubt he'll have the gall to be anywhere near a house of God tonight."

There was a long silence, betraying the indecision that Heero could well imagine Father Maxwell wrestling with. "…Stay there," the priest eventually ordered in a shaking voice. "Stay there, both of you. If you lie… be damned. Be damned to hell!" And his clattering footsteps echoed away from them as he retreated back into the belly of the church.

Treize turned to Heero. "I have urgent business to attend. You know the way to the Winner mansion, I believe?" Heero opened his mouth to protest at this unexpected desertion, but Treize cut him off sharply. "You're not my only friend who has problems, Heero! I can't afford for you to become selfish with my time."

Heero nodded briefly in assent. "Of course. Thank you, Treize. You've been… most helpful." In truth, Heero was unsure of his actions - if Duo found out the L1 pilot had been the one to sell his secret to Father Maxwell, he would only despise him. Yet at least he had managed to get on the Father's good side, or at any rate he hoped so, which was more than Quatre had. _And God knows_, he added silently, _even if I can't have him, I can't stand to see them togther anymore_.

An anguished scream suddenly ripped out from inside the church. Heero's head snapped up; Treize was gone. He had an uncanny knack for simply appearing and then vanishing again, without anyone being at all sure of where he had taken off to. The scream took form and became words.

"Sister Helen! **Sister Helen!**" All hell appeared to break loose within the building. Lights flicked on and off, voices were raised in calling to each other. Heero waited patiently until the footsteps of Father Maxwell returned, accompanied by several others. Great rusting bolts were shot back, and the heavy door was pulled inward. Father Maxwell emerged, his face almost purple with rage, several monks flanking him. His eyes fixed on Heero.

"You speak the truth," he admitted, features twisting. "He is not here. But he _would not_ - not _lie_ to me - not do THAT! Oh Lord… His mind has been poisoned. Duo would _never_ willingly commit such a disgusting sin! I know him, and he would not!"

Heero remained tactfully silent throughout this frenzied outburst, but then a faint spark of hope seemed to light up inside the father. "Perhaps," he said slowly, "Duo _wasn't_ willing. Perhaps he was drugged - that's possible, isn't it Heero? Isn't it?"

"It is," the Wing pilot agreed readily. Let the old fool believe that Duo had been coerced by Quatre. Let him drag him back to the church, 'for his own good'. Then, Heero could comfort the braided boy, show him how much they needed each other. Heero's loins tightened just from the thought of holding Duo in his arms; and if that wasn't love, he didn't know what was. Duo would forget Quatre, and turn to him instead. Heero was positive of it. He'd heard rumours that Quatre wasn't particularly well-endowed anyway - whereas the dark-haired Japanese was impressive and he knew it. Duo would be his, and his alone.

Father Maxwell was ranting again like a man possessed, presumably about one Quatre Winner. "It's sickening," he growled in a low voice, the steadiness of his tone belying the barely controlled anger he held. "To simply be such a beast, such a demon, is sin enough to cast a man into the brimstone furnace for all eternity - but to flaunt it, as he does! I would rather even _you_ had taken Duo from me. You at least are relatively discreet."

Heero kept the joy from his face at hearing these words, merely scrutinising Father Maxwell in his usual fashion. The priest grew impatient. "Well?" he demanded. "Are you leading us to his house or not?"

"I am indeed," Heero replied, an edge to his voice, but he controlled his irritation at being spoken to like dirt. He could snap this impudent fool's weak neck in a second, if he so chose. But he musn't do that. He turned, but looked back when he felt an unexpected hand on his shoulder.

"I will not forget the debt I owe you," Father Maxwell said softly, his revulsion temporarily outweighed by his concern for Duo. "Perhaps God may take pity on your ailment, and cleanse you with His mercy."

"Hn." Heero could have said a lot in reply to that, but didn't. Instead, he simply turned to lead Father Maxwell to Quatre's abode, the monks following closely behind.

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I know there's not much, but I don't know how much time I'm going to be able to spare on this, so I'd like to post little and often instead of keeping everyone waiting for ages *weak grin* Ja ne! Ti x


	2. Confrontations

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Where Loyalties Lie

'Ni wa, minna-san! I embrace the realms of Gundam fiction ^_^ Ooookay, this is my first serious Gundam fic (I have written others but never bothered to complete them; meet the story of my life). XD Right, enough waffle.

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Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and all its characters are patent copyright of some rich and lucky bastard who isn't me.

**__**

Chapter: 2/15

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Rating: PG-13

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Warning: Yaoi (male/male relationships), slight weak lime, OOC, AU.

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Two: Confrontations

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"When Jesus' followers saw what was going to happen, they said, 'Lord, should we strike with our swords?'… But Jesus answered, 'No more of this!'" -- Luke 22, 49-51

"Ah, you're back!" Duo grinned and sat up, the quilt of the luxurious double bed pooling at his waist, as Quatre carefully shut the double doors and came to sit down. "I was beginning to think the cocoa jar had eaten you."

Quatre's only reply was an affectionate smile as he handed the mug of hot chocolate to his koibito, who drank deeply and then set it to one side. "Mmn… you make the best cocoa, Q."

"Oh, Duo-chan…" For a moment Duo wondered why the blond sounded so amused, and then Quatre leaned in to lick the chocolatey moustache from his upper lip. Duo excused his manners with a sheepish grin, and kissed Quatre in return, who reached around and began tracing patterns on Duo's bare back with a pale index finger. The Deathscythe pilot shivered appreciatively, and nibbled the other's earlobe.

"Now, now." Quatre pulled away with obvious reluctance. "No time for anymore of that; it's nearly half past three in the morning. Drink up your cocoa and I'll walk you back."

"Hmph!" Folding his arms and turning away, Duo feigned petulance for a moment - and then surprised Quatre with another kiss, tackling him to the mattress. He then rolled off the four-poster bed and began rooting around underneath it. He evidently didn't find what he was looking for, and his head popped back up a moment later. "Quatre-chaaan," he whined, batting his eyelashes ridiculously. "Where'd my boxers go?"

Quatre rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "They went down the back of the bedside table, koi." He retrieved his own shirt from the headboard as Duo bounded about the large bedroom, seeking out items of clothing. "Want me to braid your hair?"

"Please." Now fully clothed, Duo sat down on the edge of the bed next to Quatre, giving him his hairbrush and elastic band. He was perfectly capable of doing it himself, Quatre knew. But he liked to run his fingers through the sheets of shiny brown hair, deftly picking out knots and tangles. Duo's hair, he mused, was symbolic of his personality. At night Quatre would tug off the elastic band that secured it, and in the early hours of the morning he would pull it back into the customary thick braid. During the day, Duo was one person; and at night, he was quite another.

Duo, who had been fidgeting, suddenly froze at the sound of boots ringing against the marble flooring of the corridor outside. Quatre put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but when the loud knock came there was no mistaking the look of panic in Duo's eyes. Quatre kissed his forehead and rose to answer the door. The impatient rapping was cut short as he cracked the door open a few meagre inches, then visibly relaxed and let it swing wider. "Oh," he said in very relieved tones, "it's you, Treize."

"Sir." Treize saluted smartly, staring straight ahead. "Sorry to bother you at this hour, sir, but it's a matter of some urgency."

"Of course." Quatre gave him an understanding nod. "At ease, my friend."

Treize abandoned the military pose, tipping a wink at Duo, who waved back. "I'm sorry, Quatre," Treize said in a voice too low for Duo to hear. He caught Quatre's elbow, and fixed his gaze with eyes full of concern. "It's Father Maxwell. He knows."

Quatre's face turned ashen. "You're positive?"

"Certain. He's on his way here as we speak." The hand that wasn't attached to Quatre's elbow clenched into a fist. "If I ever find who told him…"

"That won't do any good now." Quickly regaining his composure, Quatre strode back over to Duo. "I have to take care of something - it shouldn't take long. Stay here until I return, won't you?"

Duo nodded, puzzled but accepting that there was no time for questions at the present. Quatre kissed him quickly, roughly; then rejoined Treize in the corridor. "How soon?"

"Minutes, maybe less." The two men marched swiftly to the ornate staircase and descended as fast as they could. "What are you going to do, Quatre?"

"I don't know yet." Throwing open the front doors with an impressive bang, the Arabian swept along his driveway with a presence that even the burly officer could not match. "But I'm not going to let him take Duo away from me. I love that crazy baka, Treize." His features softened, but only momentarily. "I won't let him go."

They came to an abrupt halt at the gates, but nobody was as yet in sight. Quatre stood rigidly, waiting. For several minutes neither man spoke, but then Quatre turned to Treize. "Once again, I am in your debt," he said gratefully. "Thank you for warning me."

"It's nothing. Your and Duo's happiness together means everything to me, you know that," Treize replied stolidly. "It was my duty."

Quatre had to smile at that. "I think perhaps you have a greater heart than you realise, Treize Khushrenada," he said.

"Perhaps," sad Treize. Then - "Here they come."

Quatre stiffened, then relaxed again with a little laugh. "That's not Father Maxwell!" He ran forward to embrace his friend. "Hello, Trowa. What are you doing here so late?"

Trowa nodded to Treize, who returned the gesture, then gave Quatre a sealed white envelope. "It's from Lord Chang," he said in a sombre voice. "He wants to see you right away."

The humour left Quatre's expression in an instant. "What's the matter?" he demanded. "Tell me, Trowa; I can't read it in the dark."

"I don't know the details," Trowa told him in his customary quiet tone. "It seems there's been an attack on L4 by L2 rebels, who think Dorothy is holding some L2 soldiers hostage. She's not, of course; but they've threatened to attack again, and soon. Lord Chang wants the best man leading the defence troops. That's you. Not to mention it's your home colony, and he thought you'd want to defend it."

"Is Dorothy all right?" Quatre asked in concern. The two had been close friends until Quatre had emigrated to Earth; nowadays they rarely saw each other but the blond still cared for his childhood friend deeply. "Good old Wufei. He knew I'd want this assignment."

Trowa seemed to notice for the first time that Quatre and Treize were stood outside in the early hours of the morning for no apparent reason. "What's going on?"

Treize filled him in, whilst Quatre strained his eyes and ears for signs of the approaching priest. When Treize had finished, Trowa's eyes were round. "Is Duo all right?" he asked.

"He doesn't know," said Quatre immediately, "and I'd quite like to keep it that way until Father Maxwell has returned to the church with his tail between his legs. I don't want him worried."

"Look out," Treize suddenly warned them. "They're here."

Father Maxwell and at least ten monks, all brandishing torches, bore down upon the three men swiftly, calling out in undisguised rage. Heero was with them; he had no torch, but more likely then not carried a gun in those spandex shorts of his. Treize and Trowa fingered their own holstered guns. Quatre stood firmly, chin raised, ignoring the weapon at his side.

"Stand aside, Winner!" barked Father Maxwell in the most commanding tones he could muster. The monks behind him fell silent, glaring at the Arab instead. "I know he's in there, and I want him back."

Quatre met his gaze unflinchingly. "Duo isn't your to command, Father," he said in a quiet voice. "Go home, there's nothing you can achieve here."

Father Maxwell started furiously forward. "You devil -"

"Stand back!" Quatre's two officers had drawn their guns and were pointing them at the priest. Heero also produced his weapon from nowhere and fixed it on Trowa. He hadn't counted on Treize's involvement, at least not on Quatre's side - it was the disadvantage of having an ally behind enemy lines, so's to speak. They had pretences of loyalty to maintain.

"Come on, Heero." Treize smirked nastily at the Wing pilot, and if he hadn't known better he would have sworn the officer had every intent of killing him. "Let's test your mettle, shall we?"

"That's enough! Put your guns away, all of you." Quatre's order had the desired effect, after giving their commander a sideways glance Trowa and Treize reholstered their arms. A moment later, Heero did the same, looking just a trifle disappointed.

"I'm warning you, Winner," Father Maxwell ground out. "I want to know what you've done with Duo. What, did you drug him? Poison him? Strike him unconscious and tie him down? Threaten, rape, beat or bewitch him?" His voice shook in anger. _"What did you do?"_

Quatre spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "I loved him. That's all I ever did. And he loved me in return."

"You don't know the meaning of love!" Father Maxwell's chest was heaving with the exertion of his fury. "Lord Chang will hear about this. He will have you locked away where not even the birds can land their filth upon you!"

"I'm afraid that's unlikely," Quatre said, managing to sound almost apologetic. "You see, this -" He held up the white envelope Trowa had given him. "- is a summons to see Lord Chang on urgent state business. So if you'll excuse me, I must go." Ignoring the fuming of his rival, Quatre beckoned Treize closer. "Trowa and I will go on ahead," he murmured. "Tell Duo what has happened, then catch us up. See to it that he doesn't worry himself, all right? Tell him from me that everything's going to be fine."

Treize nodded to show that he had understood, saluted Quatre and marched away down the drive. Quatre turned back to Father Maxwell, shoulders squared. "Let me pass, please."

Father Maxwell continued to glare at Quatre with venomous hostility for a moment, then conceded and stood aside, the monks (and Heero) following his example. "Don't think this is over, Winner," he hissed as the blond swept past. "Lord Chang will hear me if I have to shout in his ear."

Ignoring the threat, Quatre and Trowa left the angry priest and his followers behind, heading for the house of Lord Chang.

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Haha I wrote this all in one day oo; Must get part 12 of ALBoH out before I do any more work on this _ or Sebby will shout at me ;~; I'm sorry for how Father Maxwell's turning out, I really am. I have nothing against him - hell, I like him. The story just… works better like this. Ja ne! Ti x


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